A Day in the Life
by Dude13
Summary: What do you get when you have a redheaded caretaker, her adopted eight year old little brother, and a miscreant azure blob? More misadventures and overall awkward experiences than necessary, as seen in this collection of bizarre shorts.
1. Store Wars II: Frankie Strikes Back

This is just something new I'm trying. I'm going to try and start posting the random drabbles or peseudo-fics if you will that I've done in my free time. Stuff that's not exactly too small to go unnoticed, but things that I don't exactly count as full one-shots. Enjoy, nonetheless!

Just a reminder, these like all my other works take place in my series, where Mac now lives at Foster's after being adopted by his "big sister", Frankie (read my first story "More Than My Friend" if you want the full scoop).

Reviews are always appreciated!

* * *

"Whew! Thank goodness _that's_ all done!" 

Frances "Frankie" Foster heaved a deep breath in relief as she plodded out of the small store into the midst of the bustling mall, her purchases tucked securely under her arm. With a grin, she took out a small scrap from her pocket and checked its contents thoroughly.

"There! That's _everything_ the rabbit put on the list. Well, looks like we're done here, pal. Now we just…need…to… go…"

The young woman trailed off as she slowly realized she was talking to no one but herself, much to the amusement of some passerby shoppers. A bemused look now adorning her features, Frankie hurriedly began to glance about the packed shopping center.

"Mac?" she called out, her voice thick with worry as she cast her gaze about. "Mac? Mac! Now where on earth could he- oh _no_!"

The redhead groaned loudly in exasperation as she caught quickly caught sight of the eight-year-old boy. Fortunately, the child was safe and sound, staring absentmindedly into a display window.

What was rather unfortunate however was the fact that it was the display window of a _Victoria's Secrets_ boutique, which had caught the boy's full and undivided attention. Mac stood fully rooted to the spot, eyes wide open in blissful awe. Frankie, blushing a fine shade of crimson in her embarrassment, quickly hurried over to fetch her "little brother".

"Mac, c'mon, let's go!" she cried, walking briskly to his side. "Mac?"

"Yeah?" Mac just murmured absentmindedly, not moving his gaze for a moment. Frankie frowned as she began to tug at the unresponsive eight-year-old's arm and jabbing a finger at the exit doors and most eager to be free of this embarrassing predicament

"We really need to get going back home, _now_." She said sternly.

"Oh, okay." The boy muttered, continuing to unblinkingly stare straight ahead. Meanwhile, Frankie groaned in frustration, placing her purchases upon the floor and getting down upon one knee.

"Pal, c'mon, I'm _not_ kidding." She scolded him gently, continuing to shake the oblivious little boy. "It takes long enough to get out of the mall parking lot as it is, okay? I got what I needed to get, I'm all set, so let's-"

"Oh, okay." Mac just repeated dumbly, continuing to stare straight ahead at the prominently displayed women's undergarments, a blissful, far-off look in his eyes. Frankie clenched her fists tightly and stood back up, stomping her foot impatiently.

"_Now_, Mac Foster!" she barked. "Please, we need to get going! I still have a lot to do back at the house, and I really don't need you wandering off to look at ladies' underwear while I run into one more shop for three minutes to-"

"Oh, okay." Mac whispered once more, continuing to gawk at the treasure trove of silk and lace before him, thus confirming that his brain had ceased to work completely, all attention being focused on the silken glories before him.

Frankie moaned in frustration, slapping her forehead. Stern warnings and raising her voice wasn't getting her anywhere fast. Then again, it was a formidable obstacle she had to face, and how on earth she was going to make _that _somehowunattractive to an eight-year-old boy was beyond her-

Suddenly, right then and there, Frankie received a burst of inspiration. A rather large grin suddenly swept across her face as an unusual idea floated into her brain. Suppressing a fiendish chuckle, the girl sneaked off, leaving Mac to enjoy all the wonders of erotic female underwear.

"Pretty…" he mumbled stupidly, gawking at all the window could show him.

"Oh Maaaaaaaaac…." Someone suddenly cooed sweetly from nearby.

"Hmmm?" the boy murmured, still smiling stupidly as he absentmindedly gazed in the direction of the voice. However, much to his surprise-

"How do I look, pal?" Frankie sniggered fiendishly as she struck a pose in the store entrance, holding a particularly skimpy piece of lingerie up to her figure. Upon laying eyes upon this most ungodly of images, Mac's jaw dropped like a stone and his eyeballs nearly bugged clean from their sockets in his unfathomable horror.

"Looks that good on me, huh?" the redhead only teased, striking another over the top stance, much to her adopted little brother's horror.

"EWWW!" Mac grunted in purely unadulterated disgust, hurriedly throwing his hands over his face. "Gross, Frankie! Gross, gross, gross! Oh, my eyes!" he lamented miserably.

Frankie only smiled deviously from ear to ear, keeping up the cruel joke. "Aw, what's the matter pal? I thought you _liked_ this kind of thing."

"Not on _you_!" Mac countered flatly, clamping his hands even tighter over his eyes, but to little avail.

"AUGH!" he wailed unhappily. "I can still see it! It's been burned into my brain!"

"Well get used to it." Frankie only laughed as she continued. "Because frankly, I think this looks pretty good on me, don't you?"

"_NO_!" the eight-year-old wailed, stomping his feet wildly to try and signal for her that he had had enough of this cruel and inhuman torture. "Stoppit! Stoppit! Stoppit! This is so wrong!" he begged desperately.

"Mac, c'mon, try and keep an open mind!" the caretaker just chirped happily. "Besides, just think of all the benefits! Why wear my bland old nightgown when I can just read you your bedtime stories in _this _hot little number-"

"AUGH!"

"-and when I give you your good-night kiss-"

"SICK, FRANKIE! SICK!"

"And if I need to wake you up in the morning…guess what you'll get to start your day out with!" she beamed.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Mac squealed to the high heavens, the dreadful images of his big sister prancing about the house in lacy black lingerie being far more than his fragile mind could handle. A loud cry of mental anguish ripped from his throat, followed by his entire body going limp as he dropped to the floor. Quickly the miserable child curled up into a fetal position, whimpering pitifully as he tried to wipe the plethora of filthy images from his mind.

"Ha, _that'll_ show you." Frankie cheered, trying to hold back the laughter that enveloped her. Trying to unsuccessfully stifle a set of giggles, she quickly deposited the lingerie on a nearby rack and calmly strolled over to the little bundle of misery, casually scooping him up with one arm.

"All bundled up and ready to go! The Port-a-Mac also fits in most overhead storage compartments as well." She joked, cradling him gently.

Mac whined unhappily, keeping his hands cupped tightly over his eyes. Frankie chuckled as she gently pried his fingers apart, gazing into his eyes with a ridiculous smirk.

"So, what have we learned today?" she quipped.

"To stay by your side when we go to the mall…and that you can be a cruel, heartless monster." He whimpered.

"Serves you right, you little Peeping Tom you." Frankie cooed in a sickeningly sweet tone of voice as she pinched his cheek.

"Stoppit! Stoppit! You're the worst guardian in the world." Mac whined unhappily, burying his head in her shoulder. The redhead only snorted in laughter as she picked up her nearby purchases and headed towards the nearest exit.

"Mac, I'm not the worst." She giggled, flashing a sly grin as she hefted the child along in the crook of her arm. "I just know how to make this parenting thing fun."

**The End**

* * *

Just remember, Frankie was entirely doing _that_ for shock effect, not for anything else. Seriously, there should be no romance going on between an eight-year-old and a twenty-two-year-old. 

Anyway, I got the idea from "Store Wars". In the scene where Bloo's leading everyone around the mall, they pass a lingerie shop twice, and both times Mac has a rather large grin on his face, if you look closely. Thus, this rather, um, random idea was born.

Probably more where that came from! Reviews are always appreciated!


	2. Seasons of Foster's

Another random short piece. No specific purpose in mind, just felt like writing it! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, nor the hit musical _RENT_. (Is that how you're supposed to write it?)

* * *

"Huh? Wha…?" 

A semiconscious Mac murmured in his bewilderment, struggling to open a pair of bleary eyeballs. The alarm clock next to his bed told him that it was a little before seven o'clock in large, blaring red numerals.

So just _who_ exactly was playing their music at _this_ ungodly hour?

The drowsy eight-year-old rolled onto his back and furrowed his brow, fervently trying to recognize the tune drifting in from outside his room in his foggy state of mind. For a few moments, Mac just lay there like a slug, drawing a complete blank on what it could possibly be.

Unable to figure out what is was, that is, until he heard an all-too-familiar voice belting out the lyrics of the particular tune.

"…Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes…"

As soon as the raucous off-key notes assaulted his eardrums, the child violently jolted in surprise.

"What the…" he grumbled miserably, while the caterwauling outside continued.

"…Five hundred twenty five thousand moments, oh dear…..five hundred, twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes…"

It took the boy a few seconds to fully realize that the ruckus had actually gotten progressively louder with each passing seond. As soon as comprehension hit him like a thunderbolt, Mac elicited a loud squeak in horror, instinctively burrowing under what little cover his sheets could provide.

"Oh _please_, don't have her do what I think she's gonna do…" He muttered fervently, praying that God would have mercy on his little soul and prevent what was about to happen.

"HOW DO YOU MEASURE, MEASURE A YEAR?" Frances "Frankie" Foster belted out at the top of her lungs as she kicked open the door and gleefully bounded into the child's room, a ridiculously goofy smile plastered across her features as her computer speakers boomed show tunes from across the hallway.

"Oh _no_!" Mac squealed pitifully, curling up into a little ball of condensed misery. Quickly spotting the misshapen lump adorning the mattress, Frankie only let loose with a carefree giggle as she skipped across the room, nightgown swirling about her as she pranced about impishly.

"In daylight, in sunsets, in midnights and cups of coffee…." She continued with a fiendish smirk, tossing the bed sheets aside one one deft jerking movement to reveal her distraught little brother.

"Ackpth! No! No!" Mac whimpered, trying to roll up and escape the blast of cold air that assaulted his little body. "Stoppit! Please, no!"

"…In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife…" the redhead just continued, smiling deviously as she shook the child playfully.

"S-s-stop! F-F-Frankie, qu-quit it!" the eight-year-old continued to plead as she rapidly increased the pace of her merciless shaking, her grin growing more twisted with every line more that she crooned.

"Five thousand, twenty-five hundred six hundred minutes…how do you measure, measure a year…." Frankie yodeled, peering in the eyes of the cranky little boy with a diabolically playful smirk.

"No…." Mac begged feebly once more.

"How about looooooooooooove!" she sang uproariously, sweeping the boy up into her arms with one deft movement. Mac yelped and frantically reached out in a last-ditch effort to anchor himself to his mattress, but it took less than a moment before he found himself tightly wrapped in a crushing bear hug.

"Ack! No! No! No! Frankie, no! Frankie, no! Put me down! Down! Down!" he began to protest frantically, struggling wildly to escape her tenaciously loving hold.

"How about loooooooooooove!" the self-proclaimed Broadway starlet only continued with a laugh, now twirling about in comic resemblance to a ballerina dancer, only greatly increasing the discomfort of the still not fully conscious eight-year-old.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Nooo!" Mac wailed, doubling his efforts to burst free from the nightmarishly affectionate embrace the redhead held him in. "Stoppit! I'm gonna be sick! I'm gonna-"

"How about looooooove!" Frankie only bellowed as loud as she could, spinning over to the window.

"Oh, don't tell me that you're gonna-" the boy pleaded, seeing where they were. Still continuing her song, Frankie only smiled as she yanked open the curtains.

"AUGH!" he squealed in shock as the golden rays of sunlight flooded into the room, soaking the pair in its warmth. Frankie squeaked with delight as she was bathed in the blazing gleam. Mac, on the other hand…

"Bright! Too bright! It _BURNS_!" the still drowsy eight-year-old lamented as he was blinded by the overwhelming brightness, clamping his eyelids shut and reversing his course of action, choosing to instinctively bury his head into the still-caterwauling caretaker's shoulder.

"Measure in love….seasons of looooove…." Frankie sang a little softer this time,her brief song-and-dance routine coming to an abrupt halt as she burst out laughing at the ridiculous sight the miserable child cut.

"Ugh…" Mac moaned, still struggling feebly to unsuccessfully escape the overwhelming luminescence which bathed him. "No more…please, no mor-_EWWWW_!"

He let loose with one last undignified yelp, squirming about wildly as Frankie drew him close to plant an extra sloppy wake-up kiss on his cheek.

"Gross! Gross! Quit it!I'm calling social services on you!" Mac threatened weakly, wiggling about unhappily as the redhead showed no mercy and held it for a full five seconds, finally removing her lips with an audible smacking noise.

"And a good morning to you too, pal!" Frankie only laughed merrily in reply, giving him one last squeeze before plopping him neatly back onto his mattress.

" See you downstairs at breakfaaaaast!" she cried in a singsong tone of voice, skipping back off into her room, laughing uproariously.

From where he lay limply sprawled out atop his bed, the eight-year-old emanated a soft whimper into his pillow, still having yet to become fully alert, his wake-up call having disorientated him more than anything.

"I hate morning people…" Mac blurted out with an irritable grunt. "I really do..."

"Well, it could've been a lot worse, y'know." A familiar voice piped suddenly piped up, interrupting the boy's lament.

"Oh, really? Just how, Bloo?" Mac groaned, not even bothering to look up and face in the direction of the doorway. Bloo, who had no doubt been attracted to the scene by the raucous commotion., only grinned fiendishly as he tried to bite back an audible snigger.

"At least she didn't play her "Riverdance" soundtrack this morning…" the little blob chortled, unsuccessfully stifling a devious laugh. The child glanced up and shot him a spiteful glance.

"Oh, shut up."

**The End**

* * *

Ugh, no need to tell me that Broadway show tunes don't exactly belong in the punk rock genre, I know. 

As many of you may know, Frankie was singing the song "Season's of Love" from the musical _RENT_. Never saw it? Then that's not a problem at all, because neither have I. I've really only heard this one song, but it just got stuck in my head so badly, it accidentally happened while I was in a mood to write, and thus you find the random piece you have just read. Nothing special, just something I wrote while a little bit bored.

Thanks for dealing with my shenanigans! Please review, I appreciate any feedback!


	3. Let Sleeping Caretakers Lie

Once again, another piece that's extremely random and short, to say the very least. It's been sitting stored in my computer for a few weeks, and I finall decided to upload it, seeing as my brain is stillutterly fried from finals last, and I have absolutely no good ideas at the moment. Needless to say, just another drabble which is why I'm uploading it here.

Anyway, please read and review!

* * *

"Master Wilt?" the thickly British-accented inquiry rang out. "Master Wilt!" 

Upon hearing his name, the lanky, scarlet-furred imaginary friend immediately bolted upright from where he had been idly flipping through TV channels and turned to respectfully face the large, finely-attired rabbit who had just entered the room with a dignified hop.

"Yeah, Mr. Herriman?" he dutifully replied.

"Master Wilt, not more than five minutes ago, I spoke on the phone with the mother of one Miss "Goo". Are you familiar with the child whom I speak of?"

"Goo? Yeah, course I am! Um, why?" Wilt asked, cocking his head confusedly.

"Well, being as late as it is, her parents sincerely wish for their daughter to be returning home as soon as possible." Mr. Herriman explained in a very matter of fact tone of voice.

"Uh….and, so…." Wilt murmured bemusedly in reply on how this effected him. As the lanky imaginary friend stared at him in total puzzlement, Mr. Herriman suddenly relinquished a bit in his usual dignified posture to glare back an unusually pleading manner.

"Er….would _you_ have any idea _where_ the child is at the moment?" he asked quite bluntly.

The lanky imaginary friend continued to return the stare for a few further moments before finally breaking out in his trademark toothy grin.

"I think I may have a bit of a clue, actually, he laughed. "But just lemme go see if I can find the Mother Hen, first."

Terribly bemused by the rather cryptic statement, Mr. Herriman couldn't help but stare blankly in dumb silence for a few seconds, blatantly befuddled.

"Er…right then!" he finally managed to reply with a curt nod. "Well, get to it!"

Chuckling merrily to himself, Wilt strode off, quickly clearly the distance through the cavernous Victorian mansion in just a few strides with his unusually long legs. It took only a matter of minutes before he found himself sauntering into Foster's spacious living room, where it took only a moment to scan the area and find the object of his search, thus affirming his assumptions.

Now, in all truth, Foster's resident caretaker, Frances "Frankie" Foster didn't quite exactly resemble anything much akin to a "mother hen", as he had referred to her only minutes earlier. However, Wilt still found himself struggling to stifle some laughter, for in reality, the twenty-two-year-old actually looked like something more of a mother cat snuggled up with its litter more than anything else at the present.

The scarlet-furred imaginary friend couldn't help but pause for a moment to take in the tender scene that lay before him. Frankie lay sprawled out upon the thickly carpeted floor, her lanky frame almost completely curled about a bizarre trio, consisting of a dozing chestnut-haired little boy, a snoozing pigtailed girl, and a snoring azure blob. All three of them lay fast asleep and curled up contentedly in a tight huddle against the redhead's body. Frankie of course was in no position to complain about the crowding, for she too was napping away blissfully, apparently worn out like the others from a long afternoon of playful roughhousing.

Tying to unsuccessfully hold back a warm grin, Wilt dutifully bent down to gently remove Goo from the rest of the pack. Trying to act as gently as possible, he delicately grabbed hold of the slumbering child, moved her slightly-

And immediately paused warily as something caught his eye for a brief moment. Wilt paused and stood stock-still for a few quick moments, slightly confused. Wait, did he really just see what he thought he just saw?

Shrugging it off as a mere mind trick, he continued to carry out his assigned task. Holding her in a firm but gentle grip, he slowly began to work Goo free from the others-

And once again halted dead in his tracks, drawing in a sharp intake of breath. There was no doubt about it now. Every time tried to move Goo away from the rest of the pack, even if her nudged her a fraction of an inch…

Frankie, though still in a deep sleep, was openly _baring her teeth_ in a blatantly threatening manner.

Wilt immediately released his hold and hastily retreated back a few paces, stunned. So _now_ how on earth was he going to do this?

It was a terrible inner conflict he was facing. On one hand, he wanted to dutifully follow Mr. Herriman's orders, as it only seemed proper for him to do so. But then again, it seemed like such a terrible shame to stir this picturesque scene before him.

However, much more importantly, accidentally making a not even semi-conscious Frankie feel that the little ones were being threatened in any way was just about as intelligent as lighting a match inside a warehouse filled to the ceiling with fireworks.

Taking a deep breath for composure, Wilt bent down again to try once more to gently remove Goo from the packed huddle without disturbing the others. Maybe, if he did it as carefully as possible, he could get away safely and-

While trying to grab hold of the slumbering little girl, Wilt accidentally nudged the dozing Mac a little too hard. Immediately a minor chain of reaction was set off, for as the child stirred a little in his sleep, he accidentally wriggled against the dozing Bloo, who immediately emitted a barely audible whimper as his rest was slightly disturbed.

Is was the basic equivalent of setting off a booby-trap, for almost instantaneously the still-slumbering Frankie sensed something was slightly amiss. Galvanized into action, she threw her arms protectively over the trio while simultaneously curling her entire body tightly around them, shielding them instinctively and all the while letting loose with a clear, unmistakable growl.

Immediately Wilt hastily withdrew his arm with a terrified yelp, hurriedly backing away from the bristling redhead. Meanwhile, murmuring darkly in her sleep, Frankie settled down somewhat, although her frame still remained in place as a human barrier, and her lips now remained curved in a perpetual snarl.

His heart pounding wily within his chest, Wilt took a nervous gulp as he struggled to recompose his horribly shaken self. Okay, this was now officially a _very_ bad idea. Now how in the world was he to-

"Ah, Master Wilt!" Mr. Herriman cried triumphantly as he suddenly hopped his way through the doorway, rudely interrupting the critical situation and abruptly derailing the lanky creature's train of thought. "Any luck at all in finding-"

"Mr. Herriman, wait!" Wilt frantically blurted out instantly, stepping forward to try and block the sleeping pack from view. "I-"

"Oh, _there_ they are!" the rabbit beamed happily upon spotting the huddle of slumpering figures, immediately making a beeline towards them. "Miss Goo, time for you to wake up! You simply must be on your way back home, your mother just-"

"_Hold on_!" Wilt screamed in panic as he was casually shoved aside, waving his arm wildly. "Please, don't do it! Don't do it! Stop, Frankie's-"

"EEEEK!" A rudely awoken little girl squealed in shock as she was wrenched from the others and brutally forced into wakefulness. The lanky imaginary friend could only wince painfully as he heard the unmistakable sound of jaws clamping onto flesh.

SNAP!

"YEOWWWWWWWW!"

WIlt could only stare dumbly at the mass chaos that followed, involving a large rabbit cursing a storm as he did a mad dance ofpain while avery drowsy redhead young woman struggled to keep a trio fof starled little ones around her as she coughed up a chunk of silvery gray fur. After gazing upon the ludicrous spectacle for no more than a few second, the lanky imaginary friend turned about and promptly made a swift beeline towards the door, muttering darkly under his breath.

"...so _not_ okay..."

* * *

"-I mean, never in all my years have I seen such an atrocious case of sheer barbarism!" Mr. Herriman bellowed, slamming his fists hard upon his desk. "What happened no less than twenty minutes ago was simply one of the most atrocious experiences of savagery-induced humiliation that I've had to deal with in all my life! Honesty Miss Frances, wounding someone with your own _teeth_? Good gracious child! In case you haven't noticed, we are _not _living in caves like common primitives any more! Why, never in all my years-" 

As the relentless lecture dragged on, Frankie rolled her eyes in annoyance, slumping dejectedly in her seat as the rabbit droned on and on. Fortunately, it was of no great importance on how high his furious tone went, or how ferocious the enraged look on his face became – she had already expertly tuned him out at least ten minutes ago, making her completely immune to the effects of his scolding.

"-and I'll simply be dammed if I ever allow you pull off such atrocious behavior in this house ever again! Do I make myself clear, Miss Frances?" Mr. Herriman barked sternly.

Looking almost bored by the entire experience, Frankie just remained slouching in her chair for a few moments, calmly taking her time. After checking her watch, scratching her neck, and even pausing to remove a strand of silvery gray rabbit hair that was lodged between her teeth, the young woman finally drew herself up properly to face her bristling employer.

"Oh c'mon, Mr. H, do we really have to go through this?" she countered. "Look, I know I made a mistake back there, but-"

"A mistake? A _mistake_?" Mr. Herriman shot back incredulously. "Good Lord, young lady, you tried to take a _bite_ out of my-"

"I know, I know!" the caretaker replied defensively. "I know what happened, and I'm sorry! But c'mon! I was barely awake at the time! I thought they were in trouble, and-"

"Yes, Miss Frances, that may be true. But how did that give you _any_ right to try and-"

"Mr. Herriman, have you ever thought that maybe if you started looking before you grabbed for once, we wouldn't have to be in this situation _anymore_?" Frankie demanded flatly, folding her arms in a huff.

Immediately he opened his mouth as to reply with a fierce counter, but no words came out. Instead, Mr. Herriman simply pursed his lips tight and drew up his coat sleeves, enabling to get a good view of his furry arms. One throbbing appendage was covered with a fresh clean bandage, obviously applied not-too-long before to take care of a certain injury.

He then glanced over to the other arm, which was also similarly dressed in a white bandage, apparently for a similar bite-related injury. However, be the looks of the frayed edges of the dressing and the fact that it had begun to sport a shade of aged gray, it was quite clear that this particular battle-scar had been there for a little bit of time already. Sighing heavily, Mr. Herriman ceased his observation and placed his hands upon his lap, forcing himself to met the gaze of the triumphantly smirking redhead sitting before him.

"So?" she laughed with a devious grin. "What do _you_ have to say for yourself?"

"Touché, Miss Frances. Touché."

**The End**

**

* * *

**

Eh, nothing much. Just like the others, just a simple random drabble and nothing more.

Please review, any feedback is always appreciated!


	4. A Major Inconvenience

This started out as a random piece I was working on just for fun, but then unlike other works I've done with similar intent, this involved into a full-fledged pseudo-one shot, so as custom, I'm sticking it here with my other misfit pieces. Enjoy!

* * *

Frankie had to admit, she was all for diversity, and she certainly had a lot more of that now that the local Super-Mart had been upgraded into a Mega Super-Mart, meaning of course hundreds of new selections to help her spice up mealtimes back home at Foster's.

However, _nothing_ is perfect of course, and the young redhead certainly was finding out that the hard way in the gigantic aisles that seemed to stretch on forever in the cavernous shopping complex.

"Mac! Mac! Maaaac!" she cried out over and over as she pushed her cart along, looking about frantically as she roamed upon the store. "Mac, where are you?"

"I'm sorry Frankie, but can you please just calm down a little?" Her unusually tall and crimson companion hushed her gently, giving the frazzled girl a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Immediately she came to a dead halt and whirled about, glaring coldly at the kind-hearted creature.

"Calm down? _Calm down_? You're telling _me_ to calm down?" she cried, waving her arms wildly. "I have gone up and down this store like a million times, and haven't found a single trace of my little brother, or any of his friends! Jeez, and you actually have the nerve to try and tell me to-"

Quickly noticing the odd looks they were getting from passerby shoppers, an anxious Wilt gestured for the exasperated caretaker to ease up a little.

"Frankie, Frankie _please_!" he pleaded with her desperately. "Will you just relax a little bit? Look, I really don't see why you're in such a fuss, _all_ you told them was to go and grab a gallon of milk for you, that's it. There's no need to get excited or anything, they're just getting something for you on the list-"

"That I told them to get for me _half-an-hour_ ago, which was the last time I saw them!" Frankie hissed fiercely, pulling up her sleeve to jab furiously at her wristwatch. For a few seconds, all Wilt could do was gawk at the time stupidly, arm dangling limply at his side and jaw dropping like a stone.

"_Well_?" Frankie barked, stomping her foot. Quickly snapping out of his nasty shock, the lanky creature immediately began to glance about frantically, cupping his hand around his mouth to let loose with a loud cry of,

"Mac! Mac! Maaaaaaac!"

* * *

"We're _never_ gonna find them…" Bloo whined piteously as he trudged behind his creator. Mac just rolled his eyes as he took a turn and began to plod down yet another aisle.

"Knock it off Bloo, they have to be somewhere in the grocery store." The irked eight-year-old tried to explain for what he felt like was the seventh time. "It's not like they're going to head to check-out and actually leave without us or anything, we just-"

"But you've already _said_ that!" Bloo whimpered in protest, jabbing accusingly at his friend with a stubby appendage. "And we _still_ haven't found anyone yet!"

"Bloo…"

"We're _lost_, Mac!" the little creature lamented miserably. "We're lost, and we've _never_ gonna find the others!"

"Bloo, please!" Mac grumbled, clearly at his wits with his friend's constant moaning. "I told you, we've not going to-"

"We'll never find them, never in a million years!" Bloo just continued, going on like some bizarre doomsday prophet. "We're just gonna wander up and down these stupid aisles, again and again and again, until finally-"

"I sweat, Bloo, if you're gonna say what I _think_ you're gonna say," Mac groaned, shooting his creation a stern warning glare.

"-Until finally, we starve to death in the middle of this God-forsaken supermarket!" Bloo wailed. As the little imaginary friend struggled to hold back his tears, Mac shook his head pitying and gave his friend a quick reassuring pat on the back.

"Okay, I'm only going to explain it to you _one_ more time…"

* * *

"Mac? Goo? You around here?" Frankie hollered, making a sharp turn down another aisle.

"Bloo? Blooooo! Where are you?" Wilt yelled along with her. As he gazed about, Frankie grunted in annoyance and gestured for him to keep following her.

"C'mon, let's keep movin'. Hopefully Customer Service will be able to call them over the intercom or something." She muttered frantically as she hurriedly pushed her cart along.

"Are you sure they'll be able to find Customer Service even if they hear the message?" he inquired a bit warily.

"Well, why not?" Frankie grumbled as she hurried along, gaze locked forward.

"It's just that you suggest we go to customer service fifteen minutes ago, and we _still_ haven't found it ourselves, so-"

"_Just shut up and help me look for it_!" The girl whirled about and snapped ferociously. Seeing that she was clearly seething at this point, her lanky companion hastily backed off a few paces.

"Hey, look, all I said was-"

"Wilt? Wilt, is that you?" A familiar voice piped up nearby. Upon instant recognition of the speaker, all the rage was instantly wiped clean from Frankie's face as she began to glance about frantically for its origin.

"Goo?" she shouted hopefully. "Goo, are you nearby?"

"Hiiiiiii Frankie!" they heard the little girl squeal, practically bursting with excitement by the sounds of it. Upon this confirmation, both young woman and imaginary friend heaved deep sighs of relief.

"Goo, thank goodness!" Frankie sighed deeply. "Okay, now where are you? Wherever it is, _please_, just stay right there. Wilt and I will be there in just a few-"

"I lost Mac and Bloo! I lost them, Frankie!" Goo wailed unhappily.

"It's okay, Goo!" Frankie tried to reassure her. "It's okay, we just need to find-" 

"Seriously, I haven't seen them for ever and ever and ever and ever!" the child lamented miserably. Frankie groaned loudly as she struggled to calm the badly frazzled child.

"It's gonna be all right Goo, we'll get them, just-"

"I mean, first I lost them, and I was walking around and around the store, but then I found them for a little bit, that didn't last them very long 'cuz I lost them again!"

"You _what_?" Wilt gasped incredulously. "Wait, how'd-"

"Don't worry though, because after I lost them, I found them again! Well, that was only for a little bit too, because after I found them again after losing them again, I lost them again!"

"Wait, wait, so you-" Frankie desperately tried to interject through her constant babbling. "How on earth did you-"

"But it wasn't very long before I found them again, but right after I found them again, I lost them….again! And then, and then I thought I found them again, I really dunno, but if I did find them again after that, I'm pretty sure I lost them again, and after that-"

"Goo-"

"Help me before I find an' lose them again!" Goo squealed in distress.

"Calm down, Goo, just calm down!" Frankie yelled. "Please, you have to listen to me! Where are you right now?"

"I'm in an aisle!" Came the earnest reply.

"We know that!" Wilt joined in. "But what's _in_ the aisle?"

"Food!" Goo yelped back. "An' lots of it, too!"

"What else is in there?" Frankie shouted, this time with a hint of impatience in her voice. "Can you be a little specific on what kind of food is there?"

"Yeah! The food's in containers and stuff!" 

"But what _kind_ of containers? Packets? Boxes? Cans?" The redhead persisted.

"The ones with labels!" Goo shot back truthfully.

"Can you tell us anything else?" Frankie asked, already at wits end.

"…Did I say whether there's other people shopping in the aisle?" Goo inquired worriedly. "There's a few! You want me to count them, or something?"

"Oh that is _it_!" Frankie bellowed, throwing her arms in the air in utter exasperation. "I've had it! Wilt, c'mere!"

"Hey, what are you-_Whoa_! Ackpth! Frankie, what are you-ow! Ow! Quit it! Hey, stop-"

Wilt protested fiercely without warning, the redhead latched onto his legs and began to scale his body like a mountain climber, brow furrowed deep in her stoic determination and ears completely deaf to the imaginary friend's pleas.

"Ouch! Ow! Frankie, quit it! Quit it, we didn't you just ask-OW! Easy, easy there! Hey!" Wilt continued to yelp in displeasure as the girl sat herself upon his shoulders, gripping tightly to his eyestalks and using the creature's unusual frame as a makeshift lookout post.

"Goo?" she hollered, peering out high among the chaos of the massive supermarket. "Goo, can you see me? Goo, I'm on top of-"

"I see you! I _see_ you!" the little girl shrieked joyfully, bursting into gleeful chatter. "You're right there! Oh my gosh, you were right _there_ the entire time, I knew you sounded close, oh jeez I don't-"

"Where _are_ you?" Frankie yelled. "Goo please, just tell me where-"

"I'm coming Frankie, I'm coming, I'm coming!" Came the eager reply, immediately followed by a bizarre ruckus.

"Frankie, what _is_ that?" Wilt inquired confusedly, glancing up towards his passenger. The young woman met his gaze for a moment and shrugged bewilderedly.

"I don't know, I still haven't been able to see her yet-"

"I _FOUND_ YOU!" the jubilant cry abruptly cut of the twenty-two-year-old in mid-sentence. Unfortunately for Frankie, she never saw the little girl clamber over the nearby shelf from the other side – she did however see more than she wanted to as the child made a triumphant leap towards her.

"FRANKIE! I'M HERE! I'M RIGHT HERE!" Goo screamed happily, arms spread wide as she soared through the air.

"G-_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA_!" The caretaker shrieked as it felt like she had been hit by a miniature battering ram, the force of the tremendous blow knocking her clean off her perch. And unfortunately for her, considering Wilt's height, it was a terribly long way down to the floor.

"Oh wait, lemme try and-" The imaginary friend cried out in horror, trying too late to try and make a saving grab as she plummeted nearby.

_THUD! _

The lanky creature winced painfully as soon as he heard the sickening sound of the duo make contact with the hard tile floor, or to be more specific, the sound of the young woman breaking the hyperactive child's fall.

"F-Frankie?" he inquired softly, kneeling down by her side.

"You okay?" Goo whispered as soon as she removed herself from the mess, prodding the sprawled young woman warily. "Frankie, are you-"

"Someone _please_ tell me we're nearby the aisle with the medical supplies…." She moaned wearily.

"Oh c'mon, you'll be alright!" Wilt reassured her frantically as he tried to peel the sorry-looking caretaker off the floor. "It's okay, you'll be fine, don't-"

"_She_ might be fine, yeah. But what about _us_?" a muffled groan suddenly took the imaginary friend by surprise.

"Ewwww." Goo gagged in disgust as Wilt lifted up Frankie partially to reveal a flattened eight-year-old and his imaginary friend.

"We heard all the commotion, and we had just gotten here when-" A dazed Mac struggled to explain before a very squished Bloo silenced him with a weak nudge.

"Could you guys do what Frankie said and just try find out where they keep the Band-Aids here?"

* * *

"…and one jar of grape jelly, and there we go!" the lanky redhead trilled triumphantly as she dropped her purchase into the cart. Frankie grinned happily as she skimmed over the list on last time.

"Yes, that's _everything_!" she whooped, checking the time. "And we did it all in less than an hour, too! Your hear that, guys?"

"Yes." Came the solemn chorus of little ones group huddled about her. Frankie only smiled warmly at the trio as she waved her list jubilantly in the air.

"Oh c'mon, what you guys moping about? We're all done with this week's shopping waaaay earlier than we were last week!"

"Well thank goodness for that, at least." Wilt mumbled nearby.

"Ha, I think I've finally gotten this dumb supermarket figured out." Frankie chirped merrily as she began to make her way to the check out aisle. "C'mon you three, let's go! Remember, follow me and Wilt!"

The two children and their blobbish companion moaned miserably in unison, but nevertheless followed the chipper caretaker. After all, it wasn't as if they had much of a say in their situation – their kiddy harnesses all said otherwise.

"Frankie, this is so _humiliating_." Mac grumbled, glowering fiercely at his older sister. Frankie just rolled her eyes and gave the little boy a quick pat on the head.

"C'mon, pal, at least you didn't get lost like you did last week." She reminded him optimistically.

"I'd rather get lost in the middle of nowhere and at least keep a shred of my dignity, thank you very much." Bloo whispered bitterly, sticking out his tongue at the young woman as he marched behind her. "I swear, social services is gonna hear about-"

"I like to pretend I'm a dog!" Goo suddenly piped up, trying to make light of their situation. "See, I pretend this is my leash, and I'm being taken for a walk 'cuz-"

As she prattled on aimlessly, Mac and Bloo shot each other twin glances of misery and moaned unhappily in stereo, having no other choice but to listen to their friend's mindless babbling.

"I think they have a point, y'know." Wilt suggested, pointing at the sorry-looking trio. "Honestly, is this really necessary? I mean, just look at them-"

"Well duh, that's the whole point." Frankie responded in a very matter-of-fact tone. "I can actually _see_ them, meaning they're _not_ wandering halfway around the store anymore without a clue."

"Yeah, I guess….but still…" the lanky friend muttered.

"Oh what is it?"

"I just don't see what the point of _this_ is." Wilt stated sourly, pointing to the fourth harness strapped firmly around his torso. Frankie just eyed him a dirty look and gave him a firm tug, forcing him to keep pace with the rest of the group.

"Oh hush, it just makes things easier this way."

**The End**

* * *

This is based off the fact that the local grocery store nearby my house was upgraded into a Super Stop & Shop, thus I get lose in there nearly every time I go shopping.

As usual, any feedback is appreciated!


	5. Financial Miseries

"…hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I _hate_ this! ARRRGH!"

Frances "Frankie" Foster groaned miserably in aggravation as she struggled to sort through the chaotic mess of papers piled high atop her computer desk. After a few more moments of trying to put the muddle into an order of semblance, she growled venomously and slammed a clenched fist hard upon the desktop, barely unable to contain her rage.

"It's just the biggest scam ever, I swear to God! Stupid, cheap, no-good sons of bi-" 

"F-Frankie?" a familiar suddenly piped up from outside in the hallway. Instinctively the startled girl hastily clasped her hands tightly over her mouth, effectively censoring whatever dark curses she was about to elicit.

"Mmph?" she emitted a muffled grunt in reply, swiveling about towards her doorway. The eight-year-old child peeking in blushed slightly, a bit embarrassed that he had clearly interrupted something.

"I'm sorry!" Mac immediately apologized, quickly spotting the mess of forms. "I didn't mean to bother you or anything, it's just that…well, I was in my room and…I just….uh…"

As soon as he laid eyes upon his guardian's haggard expression, his features quickly became thick with worry. "F-Frankie, are you okay?"

The young woman just moaned sadly, uncovering her mouth and slumping dejectedly in her seat. Mac frowned concernedly as he cautiously plodded a little bit into her room.

"Frankie?" he whispered again. "Is everything-"

"Mac…do you have _any_ idea how much I spend taking care of you?" she suddenly asked bluntly, much to the child's surprise.

"Huh?" he murmured, warily making his way towards her. "I-"

"Feeding you, clothing you, doctor's appointments…" Frankie droned in example. "Do you have so much as a _clue_ how much that costs me every month?"

"I…I…" Mac stammered nervously as he continued to cautiously trod across the room, finally halting at her feet with a hoarse squeak of,

"N-no…"

A dead silence settled thickly over the tense atmosphere for a few moments. Thus, Mac nearly jumped out of his skin when Frankie suddenly bent over and grabbed him roughly by his shirt collar, yanking him within inches of her face.

"BECAUSE I ONLY WISH THAT IS WAS THE SAME AS WHAT I HAVE TO PAY MONTHLY FOR MY STUDENT LOANS!" she wailed miserably, abruptly letting go and settling back in her chair, burying her face in her hands with a sad whimper.

Completely dumbstruck by her screamed lament, a badly spooked Mac hastily retreated back a few paces, his little heart pounding like mad within his chest as he eyed the atrociously rankled young woman warily.

"W-what?" he gasped breathlessly, badly frazzled and horribly confused. Sensing the distress in his voice, Frankie whined softly as she looked up to shoot him an apologetic glance.

"Oh jeez, I'm sorry pal! I didn't-" she began to baffle in profuse remorse.

"Didn't what? _What's_ going on here?" Mac whimpered imploringly, his head spinning in bewilderment. The redhead just shook her head sadly as she reached out towards him.

"C'mere." She begged, managing to crack a weak smile in assurance. Recognizing the gesture, the eight-year-old cautiously made his way towards her and allowed the redhead to scoop him up and deposit him gently onto her lap.

"I'm sorry about that, Mac." Frankie murmured, ruffling the boy's hair affectionately. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah…I guess." He muttered half-heartedly, hugging her tightly.

"I'm _really_ sorry." She whispered ruefully again, draping an arm tightly around him. "Honestly, I didn't mean to spook you or anything, I'm just feeling a little stressed right now."

Mac glanced up at her and grimaced. "A _little_ stressed?" he stated incredulously.

Frankie moaned and stuck out her tongue. "You're right, scratch that. Let's make that "five seconds away from having a total meltdown," instead. Blech!"

"Well _what_ are you doing, anyway?" The boy demanded, pointing at the chaotic muddle of documents piled high before them.

"Student loans, pal." She explained dutifully as she rolled her eyes, holding up a form for him to see.

"Student what?" Mac repeated curiously. "Wait, you mean for college?"

"It's a loooong, story." Frankie began to ramble on sarcastically. "It's a story about the naïve high school graduate who wished to pursue her dreams of finishing her education, but instead the evil Office of Financial Aid at her college decided to royally stick it to her with its foul horde of official forms and interest rates."

"_What_?" Mac whined in bewilderment. "Frankie, all I asked was-"

"Mac, the "student loans" I'm working on are basically a college's way of putting nicely that I'm gonna be in debt for the next fifty years of my life." She muttered bitterly in reply.

"Oh c'mon, it can't possibly be _that_ bad." Mac tried to unsuccessfully console her. "I'm sure-"

"Mac, just _promise_ me." Frankie suddenly blurted out.

"Huh?"

"When it's time for you to go off to college, _promise_ me that you'll get a scholarship, financial aid, or at least _something_." She implored fiercely.

"_What_? Frankie, I'm only eight! I don't-" he tried to explain to her.

"Mac, _promise_ me." She only repeated resolutely, positioning him so they faced each other eye to eye. "I'm not asking for much, pal. Please, just promise me that when you go to college, you'll get a full ride, and you'll never, ever, _ever_ have to go through this torture ever in your entire life. Can you do that?" she whispered, her face just a hairsbreadth from the child's.

"I…I-I…I…."

"Mac, promise me!" she implored him piteously, giving him a firm shake. "Promise me Mac! Please! I don't want to see you having to suffer this agony! _Promise_ me!"

"Okay, okay!" He yelped. "I promise! I promise! No students loans for me, I get it! I get it! Frankie, leggo! I get it! I-"

"Good." The redhead grunted in satisfaction, promptly withdrawing from her forced pledge and settling back exhaustedly in her seat.

"Jeez, Frankie!" Mac squeaked indignantly. "What was _that_ all about?" 

"When the time comes, hopefully _you'll_ never have to find out." She answered flatly.

"But-"

"Nuh-uh! Enough said, you _don't_ wanna know any more."

And with that the argument abruptly ended. Frankie shut her mouth tightly and lapsed into a dejected silence. Sighing heavily, she sprawled limply in her chair and began to absentmindedly stroke the boy's hair as she stared off blankly into space, obviously near the breaking point of mental exhaustion.

"Well, look on the bright side…" Mac finally whispered hopefully, eager to break the awkward silence.

"Oh yeah? What?" Frankie inquired distractedly.

"At least Bloo's not here." the boy joked weakly in an attempt to cheer her up. "He'd probably be telling you to try and use Monopoly money or something to pay off your loans…heh…heh heh…"

Much to his surprise however, rather than chime in with his laughter, Frankie just threw back her head emitted a long, exasperated groan, making her sound akin to some wounded animal.

"Maaaac…" she moaned mirthlessly, further augmenting the boy's confusion.

"What?" he whined bewilderedly, pulling at her emerald sweater. "What'd I say? I just-"

Before he could inquire any further, the two were suddenly interrupted by the extremely familiar sound of hopping outside the door. Shooting each other wry looks, neither one cared to turn about, knowing all too well who it was paying them a short visit.

"Good afternoon, Miss Frances, Master Mac." Mr. Herriman greeted the duo politely as he took a dignified stance in the doorway.

"Hi, Mr. Herriman." they muttered half-heartedly in unison.

"Miss Frances, I was just curious, but have you sorted out those finances yet of yours yet for this month?" He immediately inquired in his terse, no-nonsense manner, much to the girl's animosity.

"No…" she moaned in the demeanor of a cranky toddler, wearily going back to sorting through her mess of documents and figures. The room then went silent for a few seconds, before suddenly,

"You _do_ know that I've locked away the board games in their respective closet, Miss Frances." Mr. Herriman warned her sharply. "Am I correct to assume that is the truth?"

"I _know_ Mr. H, I know." The girl grumbled miserably in deep embarrassment, her cheeks now sporting a noticeable tint of scarlet. "I told you, it's not gonna happen again. I promised, remember?"

"I'm quite aware of that, Miss Frances, but mind you, I just want to make sure we don't have any more "misunderstandings" with your alma mater."

"I know, I _know_." She mumbled sourly again. "Mr. Herriman, I _told_ you, I promised I wouldn't try and pull that off anymore."

"Very well. You'll inform me as soon as you're finished, yes?" 

"Yes." She answered in an irked grunt.

"Thank you, Miss Frances."

With this simple but bizarre exchange, Mr. Herriman promptly continued on his way as Frankie resumed sorting through her disordered mound of paperwork, as if the entire thing had been as casual as a chat about the hallways needing a good sweeping or the menu for that night's dinner.

This of course greatly compounded the dumb shock of the little eight-year-old still seated upon the young woman's lap, who had gone completely slack-jawed at the ludicrously unthinkable that he had just heard.

"You did _what_?" he gasped in horror, while Frankie didn't even so much as blink.

"You heard him, pal." She replied bluntly.

"Frankie…" Mac groaned, gawking at her in utter disbelief. "Don't tell me that you _actually _tried to….that you _really_ used…oh no, please don't-"

The lanky redhead just shrugged her shoulders. "Hey, trust me, when you're _my_ age you'll think it'll be worth a shot too…."

**The End**

* * *

As can be seen, this was written in the midst of working out financial aid information for my incoming freshmen year, which isn't exactly the most fun thing on earth.. 

Please read and review, any feedback is appreciated!


	6. Love and Heartbreak on a Swingset

**Author's Question**: Just before we go any further, I just have one simple thing to ask you all. Was it only at my school that the rule was if you were swinging in unison with someone, that meant you were getting married? Or if that a pretty common elementary school joke? Oh jeez, I just hope it's the latter.

Please read and review!

* * *

"…I can go higher than you!" Bloo taunted playfully as he zipped back and forth on his swing. Giggling uncontrollably, the little girl swinging about next to him stuck out her tongue as she eagerly took up the challenge. 

"No you can't, no you can't, no you can't!" she trilled happily, furiously pumping her legs. "I can go waaaay higher than youuuuu!" she whooped.

"Ha, not on your life!" The little blob scoffed, kicking hard with the lower of his body in hasty effort to gain more momentum. "I'd like to see you try it, before you know it, I'll be kissing the sky!"

"No you can't, no way!" Goo countered gleefully.

"Yeah, just you watch!" the little imaginary friend shot back with a haughty smirk.

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Nuh-"

"Stoppit!" The third member of their party, a chestnut-haired eight-year-old boy snapped at the two. "Knock it off, you guys!"

"He started it!" Goo whined as she zipped past him.

"I don't care….besides, _I_ can swing higher than _both_ of you hands down, and you know it!" Mac taunted, blowing his friends a sloppy raspberry as he shot back and forth, eager to get a noticeable height advantage against his comrades.

"Oh, no way! No way!" Bloo growled with mock ferocity. "Just you see, I'll swing the pants off both of you!"

"Heeheehee!" Goo only tittered madly at the ridiculous thought. "Gross, Bloo! Well, I'll go so high, I'll be able to swing the pants _on_ to you! Ha!"

Flying back and forth, and tossing a barrage of ridiculous insults and taunts at one another, the little group became deeply immersed in their silly competition. So much, in fact, that they didn't even notice the redheaded young woman watching them from a distance as she passed by, followed by her unusually lanky imaginary companion.

Wilt chuckled as he paused for a moment to watch the picturesque moment. "Aw, look at 'em, Frankie. Kinda makes you want to be a kid again, huh?" he teased, tousling her hair affectionately.

The laughter however promptly died upon his lips as soon as he noted the redhead's reaction. What didn't unease was the fact that she had failed to answer, but it was more or less the mischievous grin slowly forming at the young woman's face as she intently watched the little ones at play.

"Frankie?" he inquired cautiously, shaking her shoulder a little. "Frankie, are you-"

"Push me, Wilt!" Frankie suddenly squealed excitedly like a hyperactive schoolgirl. Before the stunned imaginary friend could say so much as one word, the caretaker had shot off like a rocket, dashing headlong for the old swing set.

"Wait, what on earth are you-"

The young woman only giggled like mad as she sprinted and promptly plopped herself happily upon on of the vacant swings.

"Push me, Wilt! Push me!" she whooped happily, flashing him a ridiculous grin. "Let's go, gimme a push!"

Wilt just groaned and slapped his forehead, not exactly in the mood to deal with her erratic antics. "Frankie, I'm not gonna-"

"Yeah, Wilt, do it!" Mac laughed, trembling with mirth at the thought.

"C'monnnnnnnn!" Goo chimed in as she swung back and forth. "Do it, Wilt! Do it, do it, do, do it, do it!"

"You know you wanna!" Bloo teased mercilessly. As the little ones taunted him playfully, Wilt quickly became deeply thankful that his crimson fur hid his tremendous mortified blush.

"Guys, I'll telling you, I won't-"

"Wiiiiiiiiilt!" Frankie whined like a cranky toddler, kicking her feet impatiently. "Come on, gimme a push! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease?"

She shot him a pair of ridiculously sappy Bambi eyes as she pleaded her case. Never one to say refuse a request, Wilt sighed heavily as he sauntered over.

"For Pete's sake, Frankie, you're in your _twenties_." He grumbled sourly, although that still didn't stop him from taking his rightful stance behind the gleeful young woman.

"Wheeeeeeeeee!" she cheered happily, quivering with delight. "C'mon, Wilt! A push! A push! A push! I wanna push! Woohooooooooooo!"

She whooped with exhilaration as he gave her a mighty shove, sending her rocketing high.

"Wheeeeee! Again! Do it again!" she laughed, enjoying Wilt's discomfort for all it was worth.

"Aw, aren't you guys the cutest?" Bloo cackled jokingly at caretaker and imaginary friend. Wilt groaned as he dutifully gave the ecstatic girl another push.

"Frankie, I _really_ don't wanna-"

"Higher! Push me higher, Wilt!" she hollered jubilantly. "Wheeee! I wanna go higher! Higher!"

"Hahahahaha!" Mac tittered uncontrollably at the absolutely ridiculous sight. "Frankie, what are you, five?"

Frankie chuckled like mad as she stuck out her tongue impudently at the eight-year-old. "Nuh-uh! Besides, at least I'm not getting marrrrriiiiied!"

"What?" The boy squealed in dismay. The young woman laughed hysterically as she gave him a playful wink.

"Yup, you and Goo are swinging at the same time! You know what _that_ means!" she cackled. "Here comes the bride, all dressed in white…"

"Frankie, that's just a stupid joke!" Mac shot back with a wry grimace. "You know that it doesn't mean-"

"Woohoo!" Goo yelped happily, kicking her legs wildly in unbridled glee. "Y'hear that, Mac? You an' me, together for ever an' ever an' ever!"

"Goo, stoppit!" Mac snapped as his cheeks gained a comical crimson tint. "We're swining in unison, that doesn't mean anything-"

"You're wrong, it , means _EVERYTHING_!" the hyperactive child hollered joyously, enjoying the silly little joke immensely. "We're gonna have the prettiest, must beautiful wedding in a seaside church, move into a nice suburb where the school systems are good an' stuff, have a nice lil' house with a white picket fence, and-"

"Ewwwwww!" Mac gagged in mock disgust, hastily trying to get out of swinging in tempo with the happily chattering little girl. "No way, no way! Nuh-uh, not gonna happen!"

"Heeheehee! Well of course not, just look at you now, Goo!" Frankie laughed, keeping up the joke. "Now you're swinging at the same time as Bloo! Goo Goo Gaga, you big flirt, you!"

The eight-year-old little girl grinned deviously at the azure blob, fluttering her eyelashes in a comically alluring manner.

"Ew, stop it!" Bloo spat. "No way!"

"Pucker up, sweetie-pie!" Goo squealed, blowing him a ridiculously sloppy kiss. "Just you an' me now, my little blue gumdrop! Heeheeheeheeheeheehee!"

"YUCK!" Bloo sputtered, hastily trying change his speed and thus avoid such a horrible fate. "You wish! You'll never take me alive! You hear me? Never!" he yelled defiantly.

"Well of course she won't!" Frankie joyously corrected him, still swinging as high as she could. "That's 'cuz you went and eloped with Mac! You little lovebirds, you!"

"_AUGH_!" Mac wailed in horror, hastily wriggling about furiously to escape his current swinging synch. "No! Not on your life!"

"Woohoo!" Bloo giggled fiendishly, greatly enjoying his creator's torment. "Now _that's_ what I'm talkin' about, you big hunk o' man, you!"

"Bloo, quit it!" Mac snapped, thrashing about furiously. "Not cool, not cool!"

"Mac, you card you!" Bloo cooed, flashing a pair of Bambi-eyes..

"_GROSS_!" His creator lamented miserably, much to his imaginary friend's delight.

"Aw, you're so cute when you're mad! "The little blob teased mercilessly.

"Bloo and Mac, sittin' in a tree…" Frankie began to chant playfully. "K-I-S-"

"Ha, like _you_ should be talkin' right now!" Goo pointed out happily. "Looks like Mac dumped Bloo for his new, cooler, _older_ girlfriend!"

"Heeheehee!" Bloo tittered, jabbing furiously at the pair. "You're right, you're right! Frankie and Mac are swinging together now! Hahaha! Hey Mac, can I be best man at your wedding-"

Before he could even finish his sentence, both boy and caretaker put an abrupt end to their arranged relationship; with a wail of terror Mac frantically leapt from his swing and soared through their air, landing hard upon the earth with a rather ungraceful flop. Frankie, meanwhile, flat-out tumbled from her seat to hit the dirt face-first with an audible _thump_.

"Hey, c'mon!" a dumbstruck Bloo protested fiercely. "You guys are no fun!"

"Unfair! Unfair! Unfair! Unfair!" Goo chattered accusingly from her perch.

While the two whined angrily about the unexpected turn of events, Wilt hurriedly bent down to help the dirt-coated young woman to her feet.

"Jeez, Frankie!" he clucked disapprovingly like a mother hen as he dusted her down. "What was _that_ all about?"

"Yeah, you're tellin' me!" Bloo snapped.

"C'mon, you guys! Goo whined. "All we said was that you and Mac were-"

All three suddenly went deathly silent as Frankie shot them one of the frostiest glares they had ever received, practically freezing the blood in their veins. As they all obediently shut their mouths, the young woman held the harsh glare for a few moments to make sure there were no more objections to her choice of action. Finally, she twirled about and hastily trotted over to tend to the sorely dazed Mac.

"I don't care what you guys say." She grumbled sourly. "But there are some things that are just _never_ right, no matter what."

**The End **

* * *

Once again, for those who didn't get it, it was a joke I heard in elementary school: if your were swinging exactly in synchronized unison with someone else, it meant you were going to get married in the future.

Yeah, as some of you may have noticed, I changed the title of this collection, because I feel that this has more or less become my dumping ground for my shorter works which I feel can't exactly make it on their own as seperately posted one-shots.

As usual, all feedback is appreciated!


	7. Everyone Has Done This

Just a random piece that I stuck here with some of the other odder one-shots.

* * *

"N-no…don't…please…"

The young woman sobbed hoarsely. Sniffling uncontrollably, the emotional wreck of a caretaker hurriedly lifted a sleeved arm to try to wipe away the tears welling up furiously in her eyes the instant she began to sense their all-too-familiar prickling warmth. As she tried to prevent her cheeks from becoming soaked in cascading proof of her absolute grief, the girl also began to take a few deep breaths in a last-ditch attempt to grasp onto whatever shred of self-composure she still managed to possess.

Alas, all of Frances "Frankie" Foster's efforts were doomed to complete and utter failure from the start. After all, how on earth could she deny the indescribable grief that currently dwelled within her, mercilessly wrenching her heart with such an agonizing sorrow no one could dream of even attempting to describe her horrific anguish? She was nothing more than a mere shipwreck survivor, helplessly lost in a harsh, unforgiving sea of emotion that threatened to tear her up from the inside out with sensations of excruciating heartache and deep, agonizing sorrow so intense she could barely endure the cruel torrent of anguish.

Having long given up her futile struggle, Frankie finally broke down completely, allowing the flood of misery to overtake her within a matter of moments. As if a dam had burst, the tears began to flow freely down the sides of her face, gushing unchecked in twin surging rivulets. Swiftly transforming into the paradigm of a grief-stricken soul, the young woman hunched over and buried her face in her hands in a futile attempt to muffle the hash, powerful sobs that continued to escape from her throat and wrack her body again and again. It was a harsh torrent of emotional agony the likes of which no decent human being should be forced to endure, the pain was more excruciating than the sensation of a thousand red-hot knives gouging at her from deep within.

Unable to bare it any longer, the girl finally opened her mouth to let loose with a pitiful cry of,

"_ARIEL_!"

Frankie nearly shrieked in her severe grief as the tears continued to surge down her cheeks. "Ariel, no! You c-can't! P-please, don't! It's not worth it! D-don't do it, please! Can't you see that sea witch is up to no good? Oh God, don't-"

"Frankie, they can't exactly hear you from _inside_ the TV, you know!" someone suddenly interrupted her dirge with this rather cross reminder.

Her thoughts still atrociously scattered by her emotional agony, the heartbroken caretaker glanced about confusedly for a few seconds until she finally spotted the severely irked eight-year-old sitting beside her on the TV room couch.

"…Huh?" she grunted, gazing blankly through red, puffy eyeballs. Mac elicited a heavy groan of deep exasperation as her began to jab a finger at the particular film he was being forced to watch.

"C'mon, Frankie, it's _just_ a movie!" he angrily repeated himself for what felt like the tenth time in the last half-hour alone. "Will you knock it off? They _can't_ hear whatever you yell at them, you _know_ how it ends, and why you insist on making _me_ watch this with you every time, I have no-_WAUGH_!"

The child's tirade came to an abrupt halt when his guardian swiftly answered his last question. Without a word of warning, the whimpering girl suddenly reached out and nabbed the unsuspecting little boy with ease, wrapping him up in a firm squeeze like a distressed toddler hugging a teddy bear.

"Hey, hey, hey, whoa, _WHOA_!" Mac yelped in dismay, wriggling about wildly in a feeble attempt to break loose from her rapidly tightening hold. "Not cool! Not cool! Not cool!"

Despite his pathetic pleas, Frankie seemed to be absolutely deaf to all his protests as she coddled him close, sobbing pitifully all the while.

"It's n-not fair!" she croaked. "It's not f-f-fair, Mac, all s-she wants to d-do is be h-human a-a-and find t-true love…th-that's all Ariel wants, b-but she just can't realize-"

"_Yechh_!" Mac squealed in disgust as his face came in direct contact with her saturated cheeks.

"M-Mac," the girl only continued to weep, seemingly absolutely ignorant of the child's plight. "W-why can't she just s-see the truth and-"

"Frankie, _this_ is why I hate it when you make me watch _The Little Mermaid_ with you!" the repulsed eight-year-old suddenly blurted out in an outraged howl as his irk reached a record pinnacle.

"Huh?" she whined dumbly.

No longer able to restrain himself, the boy's severe displeasure instantly began to spew forth unchecked from his mouth like lava flowing forth from an erupting volcano.

"I hate it, Frankie! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I _hate_ it!" he ranted uncontrollably. "It's _just_ a stupid _Disney_ movie! That's it! And what's worse about it is that you've seen it like a million times over, but somehow you still can't keep yourself from launching into a sob-fest every time! _Why_? You've practically memorized the entire thing word-for-word, why do you-"

Before he could continue any further making absolutely no secret of how much he despised his current predicament. Mac suddenly felt the caretaker's tight hold suddenly loosen up, as likewise she removed her tear-streaked face from where she had buried it in his hair. Without so much as a sniffle, the redhead deposited the little boy neatly on her lap and managed to shoot him a cold stare with her puffy red eyes, nearly chilling the blood in his veins.

"Um…" he whined, cringing under her harsh gaze and realizing he may have said the wrong thing. "I…I didn't mean to-"

"Didn't _what_?" she asked with a low growl, forcing him to flinch involuntarily.

"I…I was just…. it's jus that you're seen this movie so many times, and… you always make me watch it with you once every-"

"Lemme just ask this, bucko; do _I_ say anything whenever a certain "someone" is watching _Bambi_?" Frankie suddenly demanded flatly.

With this ingeniously simple inquiry, her point was made and victory was instantaneously hers. The instant the particular cinematic title had been brought up, Mac immediately struggled to draw himself up and try and remain composed, struggling to act as if her seemingly random question had no effect.

Unfortunately, the tears that had begun to well up in his eyes effectively betrayed him as they truthfully revealed the true extent of the damage wrought by the redhead's words.

"I don't…hey, I've _never_…" the child immediately tried to defend himself, but even then it was already far too late to save face. After struggling valiantly to conjure up some remotely believable excuse, Mac went dead silent for a few moments as he just glared stupidly into the teary-eyed redhead's gaze.

"_No fair_!" he suddenly burst out wailing, letting the tears stream freely down the sides of his face. Although she had been the cause of his sudden bout of grief, the eight-year-old nevertheless instinctively tossed his arms around Frankie in a tight hug and buried his head under the crook of her neck in his desperate need for comfort.

"N-no fair, Frankie, no f-f-fair!" he wept unashamedly. "Oh, that's _low_! Why'd y-you have to say that-"

"Well, _you_ were the one who said that-" the girl tried to whimper in her defense.

"But they're _different_!" Mac objected flatly through his tears. "They're different, they're _completely_ different! There's no comparison!"

"But Ariel-"

"Oh knock it off, Frankie, did _she_ have to go through what Bambi did?" Mac sobbed. "Huh?"

"Well just look at her, all s-she wants to d-do is-"

"So what? Did _she_ wander into a field only to…B-Bambi was just…he n-never did _anything_, why'd the hunter have to go and kill his m-"

"I know, I _know_!" Frankie couldn't help but agree as a fresh wave of tears began to streak down her cheeks. "The little guy didn't do anything wrong, all they were doing was-"

"B-but then the hunter-"

"He didn't even know w-what happened at f-first, he-"

"I know, j-just wandering around the w-woods, calling f-f-for his-"

"But Bambi's m-mom, she…sh-she was-"

Just thinking about one of cinema's most tragic moments was just too much for either eight-year-old or twenty-two-year-old to handle. For a few minutes, the pair just clung to each other grimly, sobbing uncontrollably and cutting so pitiful a spectacle one would think the end of the world was upon them. Whether they had been bawling for a few minutes or a few hours, neither of them could tell, but at least one thing was clear; they were _really_ bringing down the mood for everyone else sitting on the same sofa.

For a few extraordinarily awkward moments, the four imaginary friends and the pigtailed little girl continued to gawk wordlessly in an incredibly awkward silence, as they had been doing for the last couple of minutes throughout the veritable min-drama.

"...Please stop." Bloo finally begged.

"Sh-shut up…" Frankie croaked hoarsely in reply. "I-I can't…"

"We know, we know, and I'm sorry, but seriously, if you keep this up Ed's going to -" Wilt tried to interject as he patted the weepy redhead's shoulder.

"Too late." Goo groaned as soon as the gruff sobs began to fill the room.

"It's okay to cry…" Eduardo sniffled bravely, dabbing furiously at his eyes with a small tissue.

"I didn't m-mean you!" the little girl squeaked, hastily burying her face in his thick violet fur in an attempt to stifle her bawling

"Oh, you guys are pansies!" Bloo sneered in disgust. "Look at you all, crying like babies over a stupid animated deer!"

"Coco co…" Coco protested with a gloomy squawk.

"I don't care that his mom got shot, you're all pathetic!" he scowled, glaring at everyone disdainfully. "It's like Mac was saying before! It's _just_ a dumb Disney flick!"

"But…" Frankie whined.

"Oh knock it off! You can bawl like sissies all you want, but _I'm_ a man!" Bloo proclaimed, thumping his chest proudly. "And real men don't just sit around and weep with a bunch of soggy-eyed wimps…"

Before anyone could say a word, the little blob suddenly hopped off the couch, nabbed the box of tissues and scampered out of the room, all the while trying to choke back the harsh sobs that overtook him.

"…Because _real _men cry alone!"

**The End **


	8. But Is It Decent?

**Author's Warning**: Like everything else, this takes place in my series, set up by the events in my first story "More Than My Friend" where the big event is that Frankie adopts Mac as her "little brother". If you haven't read that story yet, I strongly suggest you do so now, or else you might get confused.

_

* * *

_

_Knock knock!_

"Frankie?"

_Knock knock!_

"Frankie? You in there?"

_Knock knock knock!_

"Frankie?"

Despite his repeated inquiries, the child still didn't receive so much as a distracted grunt in reply. The bedroom door continued to remain tightly shut, with nothing to be heard except the deafening clamor of rock music blasting within, blaring so loudly the entire hallway seemed to rock with the massive reverberations.

As much as common sense demanded that he flat out ignore courtesy and simply enter the room unannounced, it simply wasn't in Mac's gentle nature to turn a blind eye to the benefits that simple civility offered, mainly making sure no one was interrupted at a more "awkward" moment. After all, he had _more_ than enough experience with _that_ to teach him to never underestimate the true value of good manners. The boy balled his fingers into a tight little fist as once more he took the polite option of inquiring gently for permission to enter.

"Frankie?" he called again, nearly yelling in order to make himself heard over the his adoptive "big sister's" music as he rapped soundly upon the door. "Frankie! Frankie, are you-"

Fortunately, this extra bit of effort did just the trick. Within an instant, the din was hastily lowered into a barely-audible racket as a voice, shrill and feminine, rang out from within.

"Mac?" Frances "Frankie" Foster inquired curiously. "Hey pal, everything okay?"

"Well, sorta…Frankie, is it okay for me to come in, actually?" Mac continued courteously with a light sigh of relief. "I'm doing my math homework right now, and I-"

"Oooh, need some help? Sure, c'mon in!" she immediately encouraged him warmly. "Just lemme turn of my stereo okay? Oh, I'm sorry! Come right on in, I shouldn't have-"

Mac grinned as he reached for the doorknob. "It's okay! It's not much, really, I'm just having trouble with-"

The very instant he entered, the poor boy was immediately struck mute in his dumb shock. His vocal cords became paralyzed, his tiny body froze dead in place, and his eyeballs nearly bulged clear out of their sockets as they rapidly grew to the size of saucers. In less than a moment his abrupt transformation was complete, and now the eight-year-old seemed to be reduced to little more than some wax statue carelessly left unattended in the doorway.

Despite the sheer heart-wrenching piteousness of the veritable miniature drama occurring right behind her back, Frankie just hummed casually to herself as she turned off her music, as if there wasn't a thing amiss in the entire world.

At least, nothing wrong at all except for the brazen fact that all she wore over her underwear was her favorite Powerpuff Girls T-shirt and absolutely nothing else.

"Okay, all set!" she announced while gracefully pivoting about on her feet. "Now, what's wrong? Whatcha having trouble with, kiddo?"

Unfortunately, Mac was unable to utter so much as a hoarse whimper in his gut-churning disgust as he continued to remain absolutely stone petrified in his revulsion. Even worse, rather than provide a blatant clue to his enormous discomfort, it only prevented him from uttering a single word of protest. Thus, Frankie didn't even do so much as bat an eyelid as she calmly plodded over to her dumbstruck adopted little brother and scooped him up into her arms with careless ease.

"Ooooh, can't even describe what you're having trouble with, huh? Is it that confusing?" she murmured, frowning sympathetically at her deathly still charge. "Yuck, that's the worst, isn't it? Here, why don't we just…"

Still chatting as amiably as could be, the caretaker strode over to her computer desk and quickly removed a few sheets of loose-leaf and a pencil as she plopped herself down into her swivel chair, still utterly ignorant of the petrified eight-year-old's heinous dismay.

"…There we go…now just try and show me what you're doing in class, and then I'll see if-"

"_NOOOOO_!"

The moment he realized she was actually about to deposit him atop her nearly bare lap, Mac's vocal abilities returned to him within a split second. Wailing like a wounded animal, and nearly spooking the redhead clear out of her skin, the boy immediately began to try and frantically scramble free from her hold.

"No! No! No! I don't wanna, I don't! Gross, Frankie, pleasepleaseplease _don't_!" Mac begged shamelessly as he tried to unsuccessfully grasp onto the badly startled caretaker's shoulders in an attempt to avoid unnecessary contact, avoiding her bare legs as if they were a pit full of venom-spewing cobras.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" the bewildered young woman only yelped in surprise as she struggled to hold the tremendously squirmy little boy in place. "Mac, what's wrong? What's wrong, pal? _WHOA_! Hey, what's with-"

"Please, no, I don't-"

"What? Oh knock it off! It's just math, it's nothing to freak out over-" she scolded.

"Mmmpf! Argh! You can't make-"

"Hey, hey! What's your deal? _You're_ the one who asked for help, why're you suddenly so-"

"_AUGH_!" Mac squealed in unfathomable revulsion as she quickly claimed victory in the atrociously one-sided conflict, forcefully bringing him down onto her lap and wrapping one arm tightly around his waist so as to make sure he didn't escape, no matter how viciously he thrashed about.

"Hey, stoppit!" Frankie scolded him with an ugly scowl. "I mean it, Mac, I don't care how much you don't like math, we're not going anywhere until you…you…what the…."

Her fierce incentive to reprimand the seemingly severely uncooperative eight-year-old down rapidly petered out to make room for the overwhelming wave of colossal befuddlement that flooded over her with all the force of a mighty tsunami. For a few moments, all the caretaker could manage to do was gawk at him blankly as she desperately tried to understand why he had suddenly clamped his hands tightly over his eyes.

"…Mac?" she inquired curiously. "What're you-"

"N-no…" Mac suddenly blurted out in a barely audible whimper.

"Huh?"

"_No_! Frankie, the answer is _no_!" he reiterated fiercely, never once uncovering his vision. The very knowledge alone of what he was touching was difficult to stomach enough as it was, and the little boy fidgeted about wildly in his discomfort.

"Wait, _what_?" Frankie answered dumbly, looking horribly bewildered by his rather cryptic remarks. "So now you _don't_ want me to help you with your homework-"

"_No_! When I ask if I can come into your room or not, next time you tell me _no_! The answer you're supposed to give is _no_, Frankie! It's supposed to be '_No_ Mac, you _can't_ come into my room right now because I'm _not_ decent!' The _last_ thing you're supposed to say is-" he ranted fiercely.

"What? Not decent?" she just repeated stupidly, clearly not getting the message. "Mac, what're you talking ab-"

"Frankie, puh-_LEEZE_!" Mac squealed loudly, making no secret of his colossal repulsion. "Put a skirt on, or _SOMETHING_!"

Despite his overly lurid display of tremendous displeasure, Frankie unfortunately didn't treat her current status with so much as hint of surprise or embarrassment as she quickly examined herself, clearly finding not a single issue with her appearance to be mortified about.

"…Wait, wait, Mac…you're honestly telling me that you're freaking out about _this_?" she asked incredulously, raising her eyebrows in total disbelief.

"_Yes_!" Mac wailed unhappily, still not daring to risk so much as a glance, shaking like mad in his horrendous disgust. Rather than be swayed by his pitiful reaction however, the young woman only rolled her eyes as she tousled his hair reassuringly.

"Mac...so what?" she replied without a hint of worry in her tone. "So I'm a bit underdressed, I don't see the problem-"

"That's _exactly_ the problem!" The child moaned. "You're not wearing a skirt, or…or…or..._blech_!"

"Yeah……your point?" she asked all-too-calmly.

"I can see…you're just in your...I-I can see your…_yuck_! It's _DISGUSTING_!" Mac lamented unhappily.

"Disgusting? Oh, quit the drama, Mister Shakespeare." Frankie just reprimanded him gently and brushed off his frantic fretting with ease. "So you can see my bare legs, big deal-"

"It _is_ a big deal because I see your underwear too! Gross, gross, gross!" he whined.

"But we're _family_." She struggled to explain her lack of concern on the matter. "So what if you see me in my underwear?"

"That's exactly the point! I _don't_ want to walk in on my _big sister_ when she's wearing nothing but-"

"Oh c'mon, you've seen me in less by accident, and you know it!" she tried to counter unsuccessfully.

"Oh yeah, like we really need to go down _that_ road again!" Mac grumbled sarcastically, again shuddering violently in revulsion. Frankie emitted a loud groan of utter exasperation as she struggled to try and argue her point.

"Buck up, pal, it's nothing to freak out about. _I_ honestly don't care that-"

"_I_ care! _I_ care! Show some decency, _please_!" he begged shamelessly.

"Oh come _on_!" she snapped exasperatedly. "What, am I prancing about out back like some tree-hugging nudist? Am I strutting around the house buck-naked? _No_, I'm completely covered!"

"Just some underwear and a shirt doesn't count! It _doesn't_! Oh cripes, I think my eyes are starting to sting!" he wailed.

"Oh, knock it off!" she snapped. Mac's, it's _nothing_ to freak out about it! It's just _me_, you're big sister!"

"It's _everything_ to freak out about exactly _because_ you're my big sister! _Gross_!"

"But I told you, we're _family_! It's okay! There's no need for you to get all riled up, we're-"

"_Why_? Why does _that_ suddenly make everything okay?"

"I don't know how, all I know is that being part of a family just _does_, all right?"

"Oh yeah, like that really makes it all better!" he whined, writhing about in repulsion.

"For Pete's sake, Mac get a grip! Honestly, _you've_ even see me in my bathing suit and a T-shirt out by the pool, _or_ just my bathing suit, and-"

"But-"

"-The very same bathing suit that's a _two_-_piece_! Now how can that possibly be any different from what's going on _here_, huh? Why is it that on a hot summer day everything's fine and dandy, but now I'm suddenly committing a heinous atrocity? Clue me in, how on earth is it that I'm bothering you _now_ when-"

"Because _that's_ when you're out by the _pool_ in you _bathing suit_! The last thing I expect to see _inside_ the house is you walking around n your und…Frankie I don't…I don't want to see you in…in….in your under…y-your…"

As his entire body was wracked by violent shudders in his unspeakable repugnance, the child elicited a barely audible whimper before going completely silent, praying desperately that the unbearable torture would end soon.

"Mac, does it really bother you _that_ much?" Frankie inquired incredulously.

The child didn't even emit so much as a peep in response, replying with nothing more than a weak nod of his head as he continued to keep his little hands clamped tightly over his eyes, while his body continued to quiver uncontrollably in revulsion.

The pitiful sight alone was far too heartbreaking for Frankie to even say a single word more in her defense. Sighing heavily, the young woman planted a quick peck on his forehead before hurriedly lifting him up off her lap and depositing him safely upon the floor.

"Okay...okay...you win, pal." She kindly acquiesced. "No more letting you in here when I'm underdressed, okay?"

"P-promise?" Mac whimpered, instinctively edging towards the door.

"I prom-"

_WHAM_!

"OW!" the eight-year-old yelped in pain as he staggered backwards a bit, clutching his aching skull. As he stumbled about drunkenly in a slight daze, his guardian groaned wearily in exasperation as she instinctively arose from her seat to tend to the poor child. Clucking disapprovingly like a mother hen, she swiftly scooped up the little boy back into her arms and began to stroke his throbbing head gently, reprimanding lightly as she did so.

"Kiddo, either open those eyes back up or else you _will_ run into the wall again…"

* * *

"….Frankie?" Mac inquired curiously as he tapped gently upon the bedroom door. "Frankie, can you-" 

"Huh? Mac, what are y-_oh_! Oh, oh jeez! Your science project, right? The one you were telling me about this morning at breakfast?"

"Yeah, can you-"

"Oh of course, no problem!" came the cheery response. "Sure thing, pal, just come right on in and show me what-"

"Wait, wait, _wait_! Frankie, are you…well…." the eight-year-old blurted out, eyeing the door warily as he instinctively backed off a step or two for the sake of caution. Immediately a flurry of tingling laughter rang out from within the concealed bedroom.

"Yes, Mac." he could hear her chuckle. "It's okay, I'm actually wearing shorts. Trust me, it's all right to come in."

Immediately Mac broke into a weak grin as he instinctively trotted inside, his shaky confidence heightened by her warm encouragement.

"Okay, see what the teacher wants us to do is-"

The poor child never got one word further with his hasty explanation, or even so much as one step further in the room for that matter. With only one glance, all his previous thoughts were scattered like a flock of geese at the sound of a gunshot, and he was almost paralyzed by crippling pangs of horror.

For a few moments, the boy remained absolutely petrified and deathly silent, much to the blatant surprise of his guardian.

"Mac?" Frankie asked curiously, glancing up from where she was folding some laundry on her bed. "Hey pal, what's wr-"

The words had barely rolled off her tongue before in less than a split-second, the boy had seemed to vanish into thin air. Not a single trace of the eight-year-old left except the faint pit-pat of footsteps of someone dashing off down the hallway like an Olympic sprinter, supplemented by what sounded suspiciously like pitiful squeals of utter revulsion.

Within moments, the pathetic display was over. Puzzled, at first Frankie paused to mull confusedly over what on earth had just happened, all the while clad in nothing but a pair of shorts and a bra.

"Oh, come _on_…" she finally groaned exasperatedly as she hurled a half-folded shirt down and scampered off in pursuit. "_Now_ what's his problem?"

**The End**

* * *

Hey, c'mon, don't give me that look…who honestly has _never_ had to deal with this in their _own_ family? Y'know, the relative/parent/sibling that's _way_ too at ease with their appearance or what they wear sometimes around the household? The dad who walks around in his underwear? Maybe it's an older sibling who does this from time to time? C'mon, be honest….. 

This is _so_ definitely a family issue we all deal with at some point, so don't lie. Honest, everyone I know at least has _someone_ in their family who does something like this.

If not though...then consider yourself a lucky, _lucky_ human being.


	9. Be Wary of Impulse Purchases

**_Author's Warning_**: If you haven't watched the episode "The Buck Swaps Here" yet, you _will_ probably get confused.

Anyway, for those who didn't see the episode, the gang goes to a swap meet, and amongst other happenings, Frankie spots a guy selling these massive floor-cleaners she wants to buy to make her job easier. One thing I couldn't stop thinking about though; those cleaners were the size and shape of small zambonis

* * *

The instant she laid eyes upon the indescribably beautiful sight, it almost felt like time stood still. Was this really the moment she had been dreaming of for what seemed like an eternity? 

The young woman's knees began to shake, her palpitated like mad in her chest, and her breath began to come in short, ragged gasps. As a wave of euphoria nearly overwhelmed her on the spot, she actually was forced to brace herself as she suddenly became so dizzy with elation, she was afraid she would faint.

To Frances "Frankie" Foster, it was if she had perished and then awoken in some heavenly paradise, for no words in any known language could have possibly come remotely close to describing the unbridled ecstasy that surged freely through every ounce of her being. Nearly intoxicated with pure rapture by this point, the lanky redheaded young woman didn't even realize that she had begun to shakily make her way towards the object of her intense desire until she had nearly crossed the entire distance separating them.

By the time she had begun to spread her arms to wrap her beloved in a tight embrace, she had long since transcended to a state of unfathomable joy she didn't even know mere mortals such as herself were even capable of achieving. Hopelessly possessed by utter bliss, she smiled softly at the source of her fantastic ecstasy, delicately began to envelop it in her slender arms, drew up close…

"...That's…that's just _not_ right…" Bloo whimpered from where he and his creator stood on the porch and incredulously observed Frankie plant a sloppy wet kiss on the enormous wooden crate sitting upon Foster's front lawn.

Mac, after silently watching the whole unthinkably ludicrous spectacle with mouth hanging limply agape, finally turned to his companion and appeared to be ready to make a reply, when,

"_YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS_!" Frankie ceased hugging the humongous crate, leapt into the air and abruptly let loose with a joyous earsplitting shriek that came dangerously close to setting off a few car alarms and shattering some house windows. Immediately the nearby child and his imaginary friend clamped their hands tightly over the sides of their heads as they fought to brace themselves to order to both protect themselves from going deaf and being flattened by the raw power of the redhead's elated clamorous screaming.

Unaware of the damage she was inadvertently causing, Frankie started squealing with laughter like a four-year-old on Christmas morning as she broke out into a ridiculous impromptu celebratory dance.

"It's _HERE_! It's here! It's here! It's here! It's here! It's here!" she happily chanted to herself over and over in a merry singsong manner before actually tumbling halfway across the front yard in a massive cartwheel. "Oh my God, it's here! It's here! It's here! It's here! It's-"

"What's here?" Mac suddenly howled impatiently as he struggled to figure out how to rid himself of the temporary ringing in his ears.

Beaming excitedly from ear to ear like a lunatic, the almost disturbingly giggle redhead skipped up the walkway towards them and blurted out merrily as she skidded to a halt,

"ZAMBINI GS12!"

Bloo winced uncontrollably as her shrill cry irritated already aching eardrums.

"Wait, huh?" he whined as his expression contorted with genuine ppuzzlement. "Zucchini-what now?"

"Oh, no!" Mac groaned as he stared bug-eyed in disbelief at the euphoric young woman. "You don't mean that excuse for a zamboni, do you? Those things that salesman was selling at the swap meet?"

"The one and only!" Frankie only affirmed proudly with a chuckle, much to the eight-year-old's obvious dismay.

"Frankie…" Mac moaned disappointedly with a roll of his eyes. "You're actually yelling me you shelled out all that money for an oversized-"

"Yup!" she answered gleefully. "And if by 'shelled out all that money' you actually meant 'practically paid for this little baby with pocket change alone', then you got it!"

"…Say that again?" the child demanded confusedly. The caretaker trembled with mirth as she ruffled his dark-brown locks affectionately.

"Shme-bay dot com! Glorious, glorious Shme-bay dot com!" she explained gleefully. "Oh man, you would _not_ believe what I got this for! It was almost a crime for how cheap this whole thing was, the seller practically paid me to take it!"

Once she revealed this, Mac's eyes nearly bulged clear from his sockets as soon as his sharp mind went to work and a horrifically unpleasant realization struck him with the force of a small freight train.

"Uh.. Frankie?" he whimpered apprehensively as he reached over and tugged lightly upon her denim skirt. However, once again she was nearly overcome with delight with this newest addition to her arsenal of cleaning equipment, and looked as if she was mere moments away from sobbing with happiness.

"Just _look_ at it!" she gushed as she sniffled and wiped a tear from her eye. "Oh my God, I'm seriously not even sure I'll know what to do with all the extra-free time I'm gonna get from this!"

"But Frankie-" Mac struggled to make himself heard, but to frustratingly little avail.

"I just can't wait to take this little baby from a test-spin, I just can't wait!" she squealed and quivered wildly with excitement. "Sayonara sore knees! Farewell, arm cramps! No more being enslaved to the grime and dust in the house, for from now on, it's gonna be _me_ who calls the shots with-"

"_Frankie, how are we going to get that thing in through the front door_?!" Mac could stand the incessant fantasizing no longer and involuntarily screamed.

Instantaneously Frankie's ecstatic babbling ceased, a nd for the next few moments she stood completely riveted in shock as she struggled to comprehend what the child had just asked.

"W-what?" she whispered hoarsely, as her enormous smile was wiped clean from her face and replaced by an expression of profound horror once she understood how valid the eight-year-old's point was.

"Hey…hey, yeah!" Bloo piped up once he saw that the tremendous package on the front lawn was at least twice the width of the front doorway alone. "And it's gotta weigh at least a ton, or something…how are you gonna get that onto all the upper floors even if we get it inside? Come to think of it, how are you going to even get it up the porch steps?"

While the others watched quietly, the pale-faced caretaker looked at the porch stairs, glanced back at the mammoth Zambini G12, to the woefully undersized front doors, then repeated the process several times over as the horrifically undeniable truth slowly dawned upon her.

"Oh…_no_…" Frankie whined heartbrokenly as she shakily sat down on the front steps and morosely stared at her impracticably gigantic purchase.

"Huh…" Bloo murmured thoughtfully as he prodded her leg. "You think _this_ is why you got such a great deal on it?"

The despondent young woman only responded with a piteous groan as she buried her face in her hands. As she stewed deep in misery, Mac dutifully took a seat beside her and attempted to comfort the forlorn redhead.

"At least you didn't pay a lot for it…" he reminded her softly with a wan smile as he patted her shoulder.

"Yeah...I guess…" Frankie agreed halfheartedly with a heavy sigh, sending the child's mind scurrying for any effective reassurances.

"And…um…and besides, there's always going to be more swamp meets!" he added optimistically. "I'm sure it can't be _that_ hard to-"

"Hey, hey, _hey_!" she suddenly lifted her head and snapped angrily at his last remark. "No who said I'm going to be giving this thing away?"

Mac gawked incredulously for a couple seconds, unsure of what to think of her indignant objections or abrupt change in mood. Despite his best efforts to contain himself however, he suddenly found himself exploding uncontrollably into a rant over her unbelievable obstinacy.

"What do you mean by that? Frankie, just look at it! That thing can't even fit in the house! What can we _possibly_ do with…."

* * *

"Me and my big fat mouth…" the little boy mercilessly cursed himself while he sat upon the lanky redhead's lap. 

"Oh knock it off, will you?" she swiftly admonished. "Besides, I thought you like it when I drive you to school."

He had to admit, she was absolutely right that he was always looking for a chance to save himself a long walk every now and then. Despite this, Mac's couldn't help but wish that one really could perish from embarrassment as they plowed slowly down the road in the mammoth Zambini GS12. The bulky vehicle chugged along at an agonizingly slow five miles an hour, much to the brazen outrage of the innumerous cars hopelessly trapped behind the unbearably oversized excuse for a floor cleaner. As the other drivers made no secret of their horrendous aggravation, Mac glowed with a blazing blush as he tried to hide his face from sight.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?" he whined to Frankie.

The incredibly stubborn redhead expressed absolutely no remorse as she suddenly turned around to face the winding stretch of cars stuck behind them and roared defiantly at the top of her lungs over the din of the blaring car horns,

"I _will_ get my seventy dollars worth out of this thing!"

**The End**

* * *

Sorry if it's not much, most of my time has been going to my summer jobs lately. Anyhow, all feedback appreciated! 


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